A Flickering Movement
by thathalguy
Summary: "I'm looking in a mirror. The mirror is not covered. The flickering movement is right behind me..." While the citizens tune in to the dulcet tones of their dear radio host, there is a history behind him that no one but the Voice of Night Vale and ancient beings of the void know, and the Voice will ensure it stays that way. (Mentions of character death)


Immortality did not mean one was exempt from death. To take on a host meant that the previous life ended and a new one began, so by some definition it was a death. The Voice pondered over its new options. It had lived as numerous animals up to this point, but now there were more sentient creatures that needed guidance in their new desert home. It was a shame they regarded animals as simply objects to further whatever goal they wanted, the Voice had grown fond of its feline host. Still, perhaps it could still cultivate these upright mammals with minimal fur without being one of them. _Humans_. The Voice looked up at the sky when the word coiled through its thoughts, and then back at the new creatures. So the Void was calling them humans. Interesting. The Voice made its way through the little settlement, seeking out the leader. The others were skittish and shied away from the bold wild cat that passed them as if it belonged there, and it did. These were its new charges, they would learn in time. Still, the Voice had to admit, a large cat with three eyes and black stripes like coiling tentacles along its back and limbs was highly unusual compared to the rest of the animals. One or two of the fighters took up weapons and tried to scare it off, but the Voice simply looked unimpressed with their show of aggression and padded past them without pausing. There he was, the human that was their chosen leader. Wielding a spear and advancing on the feline, clearly intent on killing the beast that had invaded his camp. The Voice dodged the jabbing of the spear and instead rubbed up against his leg affectionately. It would teach them to speak in time, but for now, body language would do.

It took some insistent affection and a little bit of mental persuasion, but the human did relent and accept the strange cat into his camp to keep as a 'pet'. It would be a suitable title for now, seeing as the Voice didn't like being the active one in control of what was happening. It was much better at working in the shadows to guide those in power to do what it wanted. The Voice taught them to speak and hunt, even find use for the limited plant life in the area, and earned the very creative name Three-Eye from the children of the tribe. It was more the cat's name, anyway. They didn't know better, and it would never tell them. Still, it was growing tired of playing the role of the leader's pet. It needed to find a human host now. It would still need access to those in power without being obvious that it was in control, and for now the females were seen as inferior, as stupid as the concept seemed. The Voice let it stay for now. It murmured to the leader while he slept, urging him to choose a wife for his son, who would be the next leader, yet could be influenced by the Voice's persuasion. It let the cat be caught by some more vicious animals, taking advantage of the loss of the host to hunt down its new one. One of the female children was favored by the leader's son, it could take that one as a new host, make them forget she had ever looked normal. Sha-li would be its new name, and she could be set to marry into the leader's family to sway the mind of her husband with artful manipulation that would have him and everyone else believing he was making his own decisions.

Years went by, the tribe dispersed or died out, and the Voice went back to animal hosts, waiting for the next humans to arrive. It took a few tries to find a group it could convince to settle down and start a life here, but once it did, it was sure to find a human host to guide them with. The Voice was pleased with itself when it established the council and the rules that would be upheld within its town, christened Night Vale, taking up the role of a town crier until the introduction of radio gave it a new medium to keep its shadowed control. It was tricky to find a host it liked and a method that would work. None of the radio hosts it chose felt quite right. Especially Leonard. It felt downright uncomfortable. A high and grating voice was not something it wanted to keep.

The Voice searched the town for a suitable replacement, said replacement finding it instead. The young boy was an avid fan of Leonard's show, his voice squeaky and obnoxious, but with potential behind it. Cecil was awkward and excited, so average that he could vanish into a crowd without trying. It was perfect. A brief modification to a 'prophesy' at city hall, and Cecil was marked as his new host. Leonard could be dealt with afterward, but he needed an excuse to alter Cecil's records to say that this change never happened. Interns never lasted long. A pity for them, but useful. They couldn't learn too much that way. And it meant Cecil as a human could be killed without anyone really minding, then Cecil the Voice of Night Vale could be conjured into existence. The teen's records were altered, his family disposed of, Leonard, like his predecessors, was wiped from history and minds alike, and then Cecil, upon settling into his new host, opened a third eye on the boy's forehead, all three turning white with the palest hint of a circle where his pupils would be. The tattoos that marked his presence within the host were elegant purple tentacles that coiled along his arms and draped across his back and shoulders, moving lazily along his new skin to feel it out. Yes, this felt much better. He thanked the Void for giving him a host that suited him more than any previous. He might keep this one for a while at this rate.


End file.
